Palette of Blue and Gray
by hannahsoapy
Summary: The painting he'd fallen through sat propped against the wall, several others behind it, and the stars winked at him innocently.
1. Swirling Clouds in Violet Haze

Submission for QLFC Round Five

Chaser #1 for the Chudley Cannons

Prompt: (Dark World Dimension) Write about a parallel world where the characters' worst fears come to life.

Optional Prompts:

3\. (setting) Grimmauld Place

4\. (emotion) Determination

13\. (Painting) Van Gogh's Starry Night

Word Count:2569

* * *

"As for you," Alecto turned to Neville, scowling. Beneath the ropes of the _Incarcerous _binding him, Neville set his jaw determinedly. He could take the Cruciatus; he wasn't afraid.

Amycus appeared next to his sister, grinning. "We've got something special for you, boy."

Neville felt a frisson of fear begin to crawl down his back as he saw what Amycus had gestured to. It was a painting of a night sky filled with stars, but this clearly was no ordinary painting.

It wasn't moving, not like the rest of the paintings and portraits on the walls of Hogwarts, but some kind of unnatural sheen seemed to swirl menacingly on its surface, and Neville shivered.

Amycus and Alecto each grabbed one of his arms and dragged him over to the framed painting.

"We've no idea what it does," Alecto whispered in his ear, giggling. He shuddered with revulsion at her closeness. "How about you find out for us?"

And then they were pushing him up and into the painting, and that strange thing was giving way, cold on his skin, and he was falling, falling, falling…

* * *

"Neville!"

The strangely familiar voice was moving closer.

"Neville!"

It was his _gran_. He didn't know how getting shoved through a painting had brought him home to his gran, but Neville couldn't have been more relieved.

He moved, finding that the ropes around him were loose, and pushed them off easily.

Looking around, he appeared to be in some kind of storage closet. The painting he'd fallen through sat propped against the wall, several others behind it, and the stars winked at him innocently.

He frowned at it, thinking perhaps he should try and get a better look at it, and then the door burst open.

"Neville!" his gran cried, "Whatever are you doing in here? Severus has been looking for you."

And that was the moment Neville realized something was very, very wrong.

* * *

Neville followed his gran down the hall, filled with trepidation.

"Whose house is this, gran?" he asked, shuddering as he looked down another hallway in passing only to see the heads of house-elves mounted on the wall.

"Have you gone daft as well as magicless?" she shot back at him sharply. "You know very well this is the Black family home – or used to be."

Magicless? What did she mean by that? He wasn't a squib; hadn't Great-uncle Algie proven that when he was eight?

This train of thought occupied him until his gran turned into a room that was clearly a study. Large bookshelves lined the walls, and behind an imposing desk sat the last person Neville ever wanted to see: Severus Snape.

Snape glowered at him. Neville gulped. He didn't understand how Snape was even here. He should have been back at Hogwarts; he was headmaster there, after all.

"Neville," Snape said, and it was so disturbing to hear his first name coming out of his Potions professor's mouth that he stepped back a little. "What have you to say for yourself?"

Neville was still more confused. He didn't know what Snape was talking about. So, he said so.

"I'm uh, not sure what you mean. Sir."

Anger flared quickly in his eyes, and Snape stood abruptly, the chair squawking on the floor as it was pushed back.

"What I mean is your conspicuous absence earlier, when it was specifically requested by the Dark Lord. Do not think that our new relationship to each other means that I will make excuses for you."

Neville's mind was reeling. Their 'new relationship'? He glanced over at his gran to see her… _simpering?_

Merlin, was Snape his step-grandparent?

"Boy!" Snape yelled, slamming his hand down on the desk loudly. "Explain yourself!"

"I, um," Neville stammered. He didn't know where in the bloody hell he was, so how was he supposed to tell these people where he'd been?

"I lost track of time?"

"You," Snape drawled slowly, "lost track of time?"

"Er, yes," Neville said nervously. It was a terrible answer, he knew, but he had to stick with it now.

Snape glared at him, during which time Neville tried to conceal that he was shaking with fear.

"Fortunately," Snape finally spoke, "the Dark Lord is… forgiving to those with such an… unfortunate status as yourself. He will see you again tonight. Do not repeat your mistake."

Snape looked at him pointedly until Neville had shaken his head in agreement.

"In the meantime, I think it would do you well to clean a few of my cauldrons. Without magic, as if that needs be said," he said, and swept out from behind the desk. He paused just before the door to look back. "Coming, dear?" he asked, and Neville realized with a sickening jolt that he was asking his gran when she responded that she'd follow him shortly.

He nodded and left, and she looked at him in concern.

"You look a bit peaky, dear," she said, patting his cheek. "I'll show you to the cauldrons."

Neville followed her a bit blindly, still in a daze, and only came back to himself when he was seated in front of a pile of dirty cauldrons. He picked up the scrubbing brush and set in on the mystery substance caked to the bottom and tried to figure out what in Merlin's name just happened.

He was fairly certain that this was not _his _world. Somehow, that painting had transported him to some kind of… alternate dimension? Parallel universe? Whatever it was, it wasn't his.

Neville tried to take a deep breath. It was no use panicking, he told himself firmly. He needed to organize his thoughts. First, what did he know?

They thought he was a squib. That was actually not a bad thing, in this situation. His gran was in a relationship with (possibly married to) Snape and cooperating with Voldemort. That led him to the next thing, which was most concerning: Voldemort had wanted to see him. _Still _wanted to see him, for unspecified reasons.

Merlin's beard, Neville thought, he needed to get out of here. Perhaps the painting could take him back just as easily as it had brought him here. It was worth a try, and he had nothing to lose, really.

But first things first, he decided, and he pulled his wand out of his jeans pocket where it had (thankfully) gone unnoticed. Snape had said no magic, but Neville gave it only a moment's thought before he shrugged and cast an experimental _Scourgify _at the cauldron. He peered in and was greeted with the pleasant sight of sparkling cleanliness.

So, he could do magic. Where was the Neville that apparently couldn't do magic, he wondered, a bit worried that the other Neville would show up and he'd have more problems on his hands. Clearly, he needed to get out of here before that happened. The painting was back in that closet somewhere upstairs. He was fairly certain he'd be able to find it again, and there hadn't seemed to be very many people in the house, so –

"Neville!"

His gran's voice drifted in the open door, and Neville hastily stuffed his wand back in his jeans as she appeared in the doorway.

"Neville, dear, the Dark Lord wishes to see you _now_."

She clapped her hands together in apparent delight, but it was all Neville could do not to throw up.

* * *

Neville was nearly shaking with fear by the time his gran gestured him into the room where Voldemort waited for him, but he was determined to put on a brave face.

The room, as expected, was full of Death Eaters, and Voldemort. What really caught his attention, however, was the single chair in the center, in which was seated a girl, bound by ropes.

Neville stared in shock; he almost hadn't recognized her.

Hermione Granger was very different in this dimension.

For one thing, she looked like she hadn't eaten well in months, but the biggest difference was her hair. Instead of the long, generous abundance of curls he'd last seen her with in his dimension, this Hermione had cut it all off. Her hair was shaved very short on the sides, and grown a bit longer on top, with a small pile of curls spilling onto her forehead.

She was also glaring at him viciously, which was quite unnerving.

"Welcome, Neville," Voldemort said, pulling Neville's attention away from the silently defiant Hermione. "We have prepared a gift for you, tonight."

"Um, thank you," Neville said, very much aware that everything was on the line here. "What sort of gift? My Lord," he remembered to add on quickly at the end.

Voldemort smiled at him, and it was so grotesque Neville couldn't help shivering.

"Oh, the best present of all," he said, and then paused for effect. "Magic."

Neville didn't understand what he was saying at all, but it didn't stop his heart from racing faster. Thankfully, Voldemort decided to explain.

"You see this mudblood," he hissed, gesturing at Hermione, who only continued to glare. "This… creature," Voldemort continued, getting up and walking slowly around the chair Hermione was bound to, "has stolen magic that rightfully belongs to only those with the purest of blood."

Neville recognized the propaganda that had been spread about in his own dimension by the Death Eaters there. He hadn't really thought anyone believed it, though, and now a sick feeling was building in his stomach as he realized what Voldemort meant to try to do.

"The war has been won for some time," Voldemort said, and Neville's heart dropped, "but she managed to evade us. It was inevitable, however, that she fall into one of our traps, and what greater reward than this to the adopted grandson of one of our most faithful?"

"We thank you, my Lord," Snape said, bowing his head and then raising an eyebrow meaningfully at Neville.

"Thank you," Neville gritted out, but he couldn't bring himself to bow.

"I always reward those who deserve it," Voldemort said, smiling at him again. "Now, prepare yourself."

The Death Eaters around the room took a few steps back as Voldemort lifted his wand high in the air. Neville's heartbeat was pounding up around his ears.

"_Situs removere_," Voldemort said, his wand moving about dramatically, "_translationem magicus locare de novo –" _

If Voldemort said anything else, Neville didn't catch it after that, too distracted by the string of light that had been growing between himself and Hermione that had suddenly become almost blindingly bright. A weird pressure was building in the air, too, and just as it was becoming unbearable, it suddenly dissipated, along with the light, and Neville took several gasping breaths of relief that it was over.

"How does it feel?" Voldemort asked, his expression almost manic. Neville honestly didn't feel any different. He suspected the spell hadn't worked at all, since he was already a wizard.

"Strange," he said, since he had to give an answer, and that wasn't totally a lie. He did feel strangely out of place.

"Well, we must have a demonstration, then," Voldemort said. "Bellatrix, give him your wand."

Neville barely managed not to react as Bellatrix grudgingly gave him her wand. He held it loosely in his hand, because it felt a bit unpleasant, but Neville thought it would probably work for him. All of the Death Eaters and Voldemort were watching him in anticipation.

"_Expelliarmus_," he said, trying to make it sound uncertain, like he was new to magic.

Neville had 'accidentally' aimed the Disarming spell at Voldemort, and the Dark Lord's wand flew out of his hand, although, in direct proportion to the strength of Neville's incantation, it landed only a few meters away from him.

There was a hush around the room as everyone realized that he had Disarmed their invincible leader. Neville was sweating bullets.

And then Voldemort laughed. If Neville had thought that his smile was awful before, his laugh was even worse. The other Death Eaters, assuming, along with Voldemort, that the spell had been successful, joined in his raucous delight. Neville wanted to reach up and cover his ears, but he didn't dare.

Instead, he took the opportunity to move a few steps closer to Hermione, putting himself right next to her chair, and then he moved Bellatrix's wand in a circle, and prayed the spell he'd read about in the library last week actually worked.

"_Somnus vallum_," he said.

Except for Hermione and himself, everyone collapsed, eyes sliding closed. Neville huffed a breath of relief that the spell had worked with such a resistant wand.

He turned to Hermione, casting a _Finite_, and tossed her Bellatrix's wand as soon as she'd freed herself from the slack ropes. Her glare softened for a moment, only to return when he motioned for her to follow him out of the room.

"You're not Neville," she said coldly, as soon as they were out in the hall.

"Er, yes and no," he said awkwardly, heading up the stairs, where he was pretty sure the storage closet with the painting was. Yes, there was the hall with the house-elf heads. "I'm _a _Neville, certainly, but, um – "

"Get to the point," she snapped.

"I'm Neville from another dimension?"

"Huh," she said, squinting at him, and Neville knew he didn't have her convinced at all.

"Look, I could show you. The Carrows shoved me through a painting, and I ended up here, on the other side of it," he told her. "But you should probably just get out of here. That spell's not going to last more than ten minutes, tops, if they're all heavy sleepers."

She was already shaking her head. "There's no one left."

"What do you mean?" Neville asked, with growing horror.

"Everyone's dead," she shrugged, like she didn't care, but Neville could see the hopelessness and despair in her eyes. "Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Remus, Tonks, Fred, George, all the Weasleys, actually –"

"Okay, I get it!" Neville said quickly, not wanting to hear the rest of that painful list.

"… and I watched you die this morning," she finished saying, quietly.

Neville was struck speechless for a moment. "I'm so sorry," he finally choked out. She didn't say anything, but her lips quirked in a sad half-smile.

Neither of them said anything further until they found the closet with the painting.

It was still there, propped against the wall in the same exact place, bewitching and menacing. Hermione crouched to look at it.

"Fascinating," she said, tilting her head, and then she stood again. "I suppose this is goodbye."

"Oh. Yeah," Neville said, slowly, his mind still catching up to her words. "No, wait. Come with me."

"What?"

"Well, I don't want to leave you here," Neville said.

"I can't just leave," she said, but she didn't sound very convinced.

"Why not?" Neville asked. "You said it yourself. There's no one left."

Even as he said it, they could hear the faint sounds of a commotion. There wasn't much time left.

"Alright," Hermione said, nodding briskly and straightening her shoulders. "Nothing to lose, I suppose."

Neville grinned, and stuck out his hand. Hermione took it, and then they ran toward the painting together, diving into it headfirst.

Moments later, a Death Eater flung the door to the closet wide open, lifting a lighted wand up to check the corners.

The stars twinkled back innocently.


	2. Colors Changing Hue

A/N: Thank you to the guest who commented that this should be a full-blown story. After I read your review, I literally could not stop thinking about it, so here we are. I already had plotted out a little backstory just to fuel the first chapter, so it wasn't too hard. There is a possible third chapter, but I'm not sure yet. Also, if you have an account, please log in when you leave a review? I do like to leave acknowledgement where it is due :)

For anyone musically inclined, all titles are from the song 'Vincent' by Don McLean.

* * *

They met in St. Mungo's.

Neither of them were sick; they were both there visiting other people.

Well, she had been visiting someone, but only so many people were allowed in the rooms at once, so she'd wandered off to find a bite to eat once her turn was over.

She was trying to decide what food from the hospital cafeteria was actually good. If it was anything like the muggle hospital cafeterias she had been to before, it was probably all sub-par.

"Macaroni's usually alright," someone said, and she looked up to see a boy standing there next to her.

"The jello's always a safe bet, too," he continued.

"Thanks," she said, and grabbed some of both for her tray. "I haven't seen you at Hogwarts, before, have I?"

"No," he said, with a bitter twist of his mouth. "I'm a squib."

"Ah," Hermione said. "Well, I was worried we'd already met, and I hadn't remembered you, so that's a relief. I'm Hermione Granger."

"Yeah, I've heard of you," he said, smiling a little. "Neville Longbottom."

"Oh! Is your grandmother – "

"Dating the Potions professor? Yeah," Neville said, making a face.

"That… isn't what I was going to say, but now that you have brought it up… sorry?"

He snorted. "Thanks."

They paid for their food, and she noticed that the cashier gave him a friendly nod.

"Want to sit with me?" he asked, looking around the empty cafeteria.

"Sure," she said. "Do you come here often?"

"What gave it away?" Neville asked wryly as they sat down. "Yeah, I do," he said, before she could say anything. "My parents are here, and my gran likes to visit them."

"You don't?" she asked curiously, before trying the macaroni. It was alright. At least the noodles weren't floppy. She reached for the salt and pepper shakers in the middle of the table.

"They were tortured out of their minds. There's not much of them left, and it's just…" he shook his head. "Sorry."

"Don't be; I did ask," she told him. "I'm here because Mr. Weasley got bit by a snake, and Harry saw it all happening in a dream."

"Blimey," Neville said. "He a Seer, or something?"

"No," she said, letting some of her concern spill out.

"That's not normal," he pointed out.

"Yeah, we know," Hermione sighed. "There's a lot of things that aren't normal about Harry, especially since…"

"_He_ came back?"

She looked at him carefully. "Not everyone believes that."

"Not everyone's my gran," he said bitterly. "Sometimes, the way she talks, I think she's lost her mind, too."

Hermione raised her jello cup. "To crazy adults," she said.

Neville laughed, and knocked his cup against hers. "To crazy adults," he echoed, and they at their jello together quietly.

As they were leaving the cafeteria, he hesitated a little at the exit.

"Would you mind writing to me?" he asked her.

She looked at him in surprise.

"It's just… my gran's a bit overprotective, see, and I don't get out much," he said, one hand nervously messing up his hair. "It'd be nice to, to –"

"Have a friend?" she asked, smiling softly. "Sure. I'd love to."

A smile spread across his face. "Thank you," he said, voice bleeding relief.

* * *

Hermione borrowed Harry's owl to write him as soon as they were back at Hogwarts. She realized, as she wrote his name on the front of the envelope, that she had no idea where he lived, but thankfully, Hedwig wasn't bothered by the lack of address, chirping and bobbing her head happily when she told her the name.

They started up a lengthy correspondence – Neville had not been joking when he said he was lonely – but Hermione didn't mind. She only wished he'd been a wizard so that they could have met sooner.

Neville couldn't get out from under his grandmother's thumb very often, but when he did, he spent the time with her. There were snowball fights in Hogsmeade, sunny afternoons getting Fortescue's in Diagon Alley, a few kisses – and then, despite their differences and the things keeping them apart, they called it what it was: a relationship.

Even after it all began falling apart, they were strong.

At the time, it had seemed that everything had begun when Dumbledore was killed, but later, she realized things had been going downhill far before then.

It was a slow, slow process, but eventually, things added up. Neville helped; he did the best he could to give them every scrap of information he was privy to, but as squib, he was only better than a mudblood in Voldemort's eyes because of his parentage.

Ron left while they were on the run, looking for the horcruxes. He never came back. Neville was the one to break it to them in his next letter that he never would. She could tell from his shaky penmanship that it tore him to pieces.

Luna died in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. Dobby died beneath Bellatrix's knife.

They found Gryffindor's sword in the Lestrange vault, and took care of the locket and the cup, but Griphook stole it from them.

They made it out of the bank alive, somehow, but by then both sides were gathered in Diagon Alley, and Dark and Light clashed, right there on the cobblestones.

She watched Harry die, twice.

Hermione might have died, too, but for the remaining Weasleys. Charlie and George found her, grabbed her by the arms, and whisked her away to join them and the rest that had escaped the final battle alive.

A few dozen in number, many weary and some injured, they vowed to never give up the fight.

It was easy to keep up spirits at first, when they won a few skirmishes, but they were always outnumbered.

They began to lose people quickly, and suddenly, it was only her left. They were all dead.

She lost George last, on a foraging trip into Godric's Hollow. They'd miscalculated the Death Eater patrols that roamed around to catch them.

She didn't know he was gone until she was back at their safe house, waiting for him to return on his portkey.

It came back; he didn't.

She collapsed on the floor and cried until she had no more left to give.

* * *

A gentle pecking woke her. She looked up to see Neville's owl and smiled half-heartedly at it.

Pushing herself up off the floor, she took the scrap of paper from its outstretched leg and unrolled it.

_It's just us_, he'd written. _Run away with me?_

He'd written an address, and a time, tomorrow morning, below it. The owl was still waiting.

_I'll be there_, she scribbled quickly on the back of the paper, taking one last look to make sure she had the address memorized before she sent it back.

She'd thought she was out of tears, but as the owl winged away, she discovered she was wrong.

* * *

It hadn't been her fault; she knew that.

But it was hard to convince herself of that when it was her left staring at his cold, lifeless limbs.

They'd spent too long dawdling before they left, so happy to see each other they'd hardly done anything but clutch the other closer and exchange tender kisses.

And then –

They'd run, but Neville had no way to defend himself. She'd finally grabbed his arm to apparate away, but too late.

Her vision filled with green as she twisted, and by the time she landed in the safe house –

Then she discovered it was worse when the tears wouldn't come.

She buried Neville, and then went out.

One last hurrah, she thought. Maybe she'd take the noseless bastard down with her.

* * *

They weren't interested in killing her quickly, she discovered, waking from the Stunner to find herself bound to a chair, Silenced, and surrounded by a crowd of Death Eaters, and Voldemort. None of them were looking at her as she glared at them defiantly, and she craned her neck to see someone very familiar standing in the doorway.

"Welcome, Neville," Voldemort said, and she felt her heart grow cold.

* * *

It wasn't him.

She knew that when she took his hand. It wasn't him, and yet it was, just a little. She wouldn't have gone with him if it were anyone else in his place. But it was him, and she felt the first flare of hope she'd had in a long time, as she laced her fingers into his, and they ran, diving into the swirling star-scape together.

* * *

God, this is so depressing. Someone tell me they want more so I can write an uplifting third chapter.


	3. Flaming Flowers That Brightly Blaze

A/N: This will be the final chapter. I'm sure some people will be upset that I'm ending it here, and honestly, I'm a little disappointed that it ends here, too. With this story, however, there was a sort of feeling I wanted to keep about it, and I felt like if I continued, it would no longer keep the same feeling. I hope you all understand, and please enjoy this last chapter!

* * *

"Oh, good," a young voice said, when they tumbled out onto the floor.

Hermione looked up to see a young boy with tousled blond hair staring down at her with wide blue eyes. It was Colin Creevey.

"Colin!" she heard Neville saying, as her throat tightened at the sight of the boy who she'd last seen dead. "What's happened?"

"Castle's on alert," Colin said, straightening with self-importance to deliver his message. "Ginny reckons _he's_ coming."

"Excellent," Neville said, grinning. Hermione shook her head in bewilderment. They couldn't mean –

"Voldemort?" she asked harshly, gripping her wand. Colin looked at her, startled.

"Don't – he's got a Trace on his name!"

"Pretty sure it doesn't matter anymore," Neville reassured him, and then turned back to Hermione. "Yeah, he's probably coming, too, but Ginny means Harry. Our code word for Voldemort is 'Old Moldy'."

A startled noise of amusement burst from her lips, and Neville smiled at her, a strange reflection of _her_ Neville.

"The Room?" Neville asked Colin, who nodded vigorously. "Let's go, then."

Hermione recognized the second-floor corridor easily as they left. It was exactly the same as the Hogwarts she had left behind, and she wondered what had happened differently here that so many were still alive and well.

"Neville, is that…" Colin whispered loudly.

"Sort of," Neville said, glancing back at her in amusement. Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "I'll explain when we get up there."

Colin nodded, but his gaze lingered over her curiously. Hermione wondered if she was alive in this dimension. There was a strange thought. With the differences she had already observed, and deduced, she was sure that if she was alive here, she would be… well, very different.

They reached the seventh-floor corridor without incident, and Neville strode back and forth in front of the wall hiding the Room of Requirement. It was nice to see that some things were the same. The door revealed itself, and she followed Neville and Colin inside.

It was filled with people she recognized as long gone, people she never thought she'd see again, and she felt her eyes watering again.

Several of them gasped upon seeing her, and looked ready to march over, but she moved closer to Neville, unsure how to explain her presence.

Neville was already talking to Ginny, explaining what had happened to him, assessing the situation and taking charge. It was so strange to see him in this sort of situation, no matter that it would have been impossible in her world.

"Yeah, she's from the other dimension," she heard Neville saying, and turned her attention fully back to the conversation again. Ginny's unabashed stare met her own fiercely.

"You've seen some stuff, haven't you," the redhead said at last.

"You could say that," Hermione said.

"Good enough for me," Ginny shrugged. "Stick with Neville, though, or at least someone else in this room. I don't know if there's anyone in our dimension who's on a different side than in yours."

It was a fair point, Hermione thought, nodding in agreement.

A sudden commotion started up on one side of the room, and people started calling for Ginny and Neville. Hermione followed them over to where a crowd had gathered by a painting of a young girl in a pink dress.

"Ariana Dumbledore," Neville told her, and she nodded slowly. The portrait swung open, and out came Luna, and behind her was Harry, and Ron, and… herself.

Merlin, that was odd. It was even stranger than seeing herself when they'd used the Time Turner in third year.

She looked so different here. The long hair was the biggest difference, of course. She hadn't had long hair in months – not since they'd lost Ron. The other Hermione laughed at something one of the twins said, and she wondered when the last time she'd truly laughed had been.

She couldn't remember.

Neville's hand brushed her shoulder, and she jumped.

"Sorry," he said. "Just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I – yes," she said, looking up into his concerned eyes. "All this is a bit of a shock, that's all."

His mouth twisted sympathetically, and he looked like he might say something, but then Harry's voice cut into their little bubble.

"Neville, mate," he said, "it's so good to see you, I – "

He'd turned and seen Hermione.

"Hello, Harry," Hermione said, voice cracking a little, and then she honestly couldn't help what she did next, really. She burst into tears, and flung herself forward, embracing the astonished Boy-Who-Really-Did-Live.

"Er, it's a really long story, Harry, but basically –"

Hermione tuned Neville out, focusing instead on Harry, and the steady heartbeat she could hear, pumping in his chest. She and Harry had never been together, but after Ron died, they'd become so close they were like siblings, and losing him had broken her.

She realized that Neville had finished his summary of their adventure, and that she should probably let this Harry go. She clung to him a few seconds longer, however, out of sheer selfishness, before stepping back.

"Sorry," she told him. "I just – I lost you over there."

"It's alright. It's more weird that there's two of you," he said, smiling. "I'm afraid we can't really stick around; we're looking for something, possibly of Ravenclaw's."

"Oh," Hermione said, happy to know the answer. "You want the diadem."

Ron and the other Hermione, talking to Ginny and some of the other Weasleys, heard her and turned quickly.

"How do you know that?" Ron demanded suspiciously, and then he yelped when the other Hermione elbowed him. Hermione just smiled at them.

"Draco wasn't totally useless, you know," she said.

"The ferret was on your side?" Ron exclaimed.

"He did try to help," the other Hermione reminded him. "In the Manor. Remember?"

Ron looked about to protest again.

"For us, that's when he switched," Hermione told them quickly. "Lucius was dead by then. He and his mother wanted out."

"Fascinating," said the other Hermione. "Is there anything else you've noticed already that's different here? This opens some really interesting possibilities for –"

"Hermione!"

Both of them looked at Harry.

"Er, sorry, um, you, the other one. I mean, alternate dimension Hermione? This is going to get confusing," Harry said, laughing awkwardly.

"How about you just call me Jean?" Hermione suggested. "I don't mind going by our middle name."

"Right," Harry said, still looking embarrassed. "Malfoy didn't happen to know where the diadem was, did he?"

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head regretfully. "We only knew it was in Hogwarts. Never actually made it this far."

There wasn't much to say to that. The other Hermione made a quiet, soft noise of distress, but Harry didn't shy away from her gaze, and she knew he understood.

"First things first, then," Ron cut in, the moment breaking. "Anyone know what the diadem looks like?"

"There's a replica in Ravenclaw common room," Luna said brightly, appearing from nowhere. "I can show you."

"Oh, excellent," the other Hermione said, and the three began to follow Luna out of the Room.

A few steps away, Harry looked back hesitantly, and pointed over at the door. "Did you want to come with?"

Hermione considered it for a moment but shook her head. "You've already got one bookworm. I'll stay with Neville."

Harry's eyes flicked between them, and then he nodded.

"See you later, Jean," he said, and then turned to follow Ron and the other Hermione.

"I hope I will," Hermione said quietly.

* * *

Neville didn't think she'd meant anyone else to hear what she'd said so quietly.

"You don't have to stick around with me," Neville told her. "I know you just watched other me, uh, die, but don't feel like you have to –"

"I can't," she said, interrupting him. "It would be too much. It's just, I buried them a long time ago, and it's hard to…"

Neville wasn't sure where she was going with that, or if she was going anywhere with it, but after a moment she seemed to find her trail of thought.

"It's like I planted a garden, right? It started out rough, but I worked hard at it, and now being around them is like trying to uproot great big oak trees from my heart, and – and being around you is like pulling up a half-grown tomato plant."

"That makes perfect sense, actually," Neville admitted. "I'm sorry."

"No," she said. "I'm glad I came with you."

"Good," Neville said, meeting her eyes. He still saw her grief in those depths, but they were lighter than they'd been before, and he was grateful for that much, at least.

He hadn't been through what she had, but he could imagine it, and though he didn't want to linger too much on the thought, it could still happen here. They could still lose everything. The battle was not yet won; it had barely started.

"Don't think like that," Hermione said softly, although he'd said nothing. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "We won't lose."

"How can I not?" Neville asked her. "Yours did."

It hurt, but it was true. Her world had already lost. There was no reason to think this one wouldn't, too.

"And I don't think everyone will make it out today," she told him, a bit harshly. "But I have to believe we'll win, or we definitely won't. And you've got to believe it, too."

Neville nodded slowly. She was right, of course. Maybe they would lose out there, but he'd rather go down fighting than give in to despair.

"Come on, then," she said, drawing Bellatrix's wand with a smirk. "The Death Eaters won't kick their own arses."

He grinned right back, and, raising his own wand, they left the Room together.


End file.
